


Making Bad Decisions

by DemonicPiano



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Bad Weather, Bad driving/passenger etiquette, Established Relationship, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, M/M, car crashes, non-graphic description of blood/injury, time loops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:33:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26978155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonicPiano/pseuds/DemonicPiano
Summary: Immovable-object Ivan and unstoppable-force Alfred are dating, and they're on a road for a joyride in a car that's not even theirs. Something is not too happy about it...
Relationships: America/Russia (Hetalia)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Making Bad Decisions

**Author's Note:**

> It's almost Halloween, time for a darker/more intense fic. It started with a headcanon that Alfred was a bad driver, then some crazy spontaneous RP session and mentions of the movie Groundhog Day later, we're here. I'm not a suspense/mind-fucker kind of person, but there was an attempt. Also, bit irrelevant, but this is set sometime in the 90's-early 00's. I think Ivan would have a mullet. ;)

_'Oh, making bad decisions...oh, making bad decisions, oh, making-'_

_"Making bad decisions for you-"_ A pale hand abruptly shuts off the radio. Alfred shoots an offended look to his boyfriend in the passenger seat, but Ivan stares out the window, pretending like he didn't do anything wrong. "Those were my jams!"

"You sing more than you drive," Ivan says. Alfred is quiet for more than two seconds, so he looks over to see a furious little pout glaring from the driver's seat. With the rage of a thousand suns and all the love in the world, Ivan nearly yells, "Stop looking at me and pay attention to the road!"

"I don't wanna. The road's not as pretty as you are."

Ivan shoves his shoulder, and Alfred hunches up, giggling, but finally _(finally!)_ puts his eyes back on the road. As boring as it may be, the next town (and all the fast-food that comes with it) isn't for several miles. A feat for Alfred's attention span. At least for Ivan, he found the little joys in the confines of metal and faint smell of old leather and cigarettes. If he grows tired of the view of clouds and trees and other cars speeding past, he could turn his head and stare at his dearest leaning slightly forward as he speeds up to overtake a slow-poke, tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration, and finds himself falling a bit more in love.

Alfred falls against his seat, grinning in victory as he leaves the person going the speed limit in the dust. "Damn, no wonder why that old fuddy-duddy never wanted anyone to touch this babe." With an appreciative rub over the steering wheel, "She's smoother than summer butter! Woo!"

Ah, yes, when Alfred called him that afternoon, voice muffled into the phone as if he had a hand alongside his face in secret, Ivan would never expect he would finally find the guts to roll up in the middle of their chummy neighborhood with his father's boyfriend's most coveted prize. "Alfred, we can't," were his first words when Alfred rolled down the window with the biggest grin.

"I can, and I did." A smack to the outside of the door. Dark green. Not such an odd choice for a sleek built for speed. "Can't leave a beauty like this to sit in the garage and collect dust! She needs air! She needs freedom!"

And so did they. It's almost fall, the air has a cool twinge to it, but the windows are down, and Ivan tips his face toward the onslaught of wind. Thick blankets of clouds chase after the Sun. Stuffy families. Stuffy houses. Stuffy _neighbors._ A couple of guys couldn't walk down the street together holding hands, but on the road? He pulls a slow smile as he feels a light touch on the back of his hand resting on the center console. Nobody could catch them there. Alfred's fingers weave between his before giving a squeeze. The air may bite his cheeks, but his heart feels warm, as does Alfred's palm.

It is quiet without the radio. Alfred makes miniscule expressions at each and every thing that drives, flies, or passes the car, and Ivan is doomed to stare at the side of his face. A glance over becomes a double-take, then Alfred is staring back and smiling again.

"Road," is all Ivan says. It works. For now.

Of course it is not long at all until Alfred lifts their joined hands to his lips and presses a quick kiss to the back of Ivan's knuckles. Just a glimpse of blue from the corner of his eye, but his face stays toward the road. Ivan can't yell at him, in other words.

"It looks very gray on your side."

"Ain't no bit of rain stopping us."

Ivan has to laugh. Just a little. "That does not look like a 'little bit of rain,' my little songbird."

"Ever dance in the rain before, honey-bunny?"

Their eyes meet, and Ivan can't stay serious as he loses to a giggle, leaning into Alfred to 'punish' him with a playful jostle. Alfred plants a sneaky kiss on his cheek, a moment before the radio blasts again. Ivan pulls away to turn the dial, and Alfred swats his hand. A drop of water hits the windshield. "Bad Alfred!" Ivan scolds the infectious laughter. Their fingers wrestle for the console's affection and Alfred grunts as Ivan sticks an elbow to his bicep, swaying side to side as he stares down the road ahead of them.

"Quit it!"

"You quit it."

" _Stooooop,_ babe, come on, let me listen to music."

"So you can dance again?"

"You like watching me dance."

"Not when you're driving."

"Liar. You're a little liar."

"You are a _big_ liar!"

The car goes over a bump. They jostle.

Ivan looks up. "Alfred, watch out!"

Alfred cusses, ripping his hand away to twist the steering wheel. Rain dapples the glass. Ivan clutches the divot in the door, body seizing as the wheels scream against the asphalt. The barrier comes too quickly.

Dark green paint is scorn with irrefutable damage. Droplets of rain hit the crumpled metal. Nobody inside stirs. The sky is completely gray.

~.~

**_HONK!_ **

Alfred flails, hands smacking against hard plastic. The dashboard. He blinks stupidly at an arm withdrawing from the cab and pushes his glasses back in place. Ivan is bent forward, peeking in to do that smarmy little smile that puffs up his cheeks. "Why'd you do that for?!"

He has two to-go cups in his hands, and moves them slightly apart to make an 'easy' gesture, "You drool on the steering wheel. Now move, I drive."

"Nuh-uh." Alfred is _totally_ not drooling. He wipes a bright sleeve across his mouth, just in case. "This is that freaking loser Eyebrow's car. If there's a single scratch on it, he's going to like, put a curse on me or something."

"You already stole the car in the first place. You are already doomed," Ivan innocently points out. "Move, or I will drink your coffee."

"Babe! Can you like, not spell out inevitable doom for once?!"

"Would you rather not be prepared?"

Alfred tips his head back with a guttural groan before pulling over the central console and into the next seat. Ivan nods approvingly after his behind before slipping inside and handing over a cup. "What'd you get?"

"Cocoa."

"Such a nerd."

Ivan shuts the door and turns back to Alfred with a tight smile, "But you like this nerd, yes?"

A whiff of coffee-filled appreciation later, and Alfred relents with a nod. "Maybe I do," he says, glancing around the gas station's parking lot before leaning for a quick smooch. He's bitter and very warm, like the cup in his hands. "Just be careful driving. Put your seatbelt on."

"Oh, my little Alfred lectures me about road safety."

Alfred quietly grunts, not caring enough to retaliate when he's sucking down his bean-water. Ivan restarts the car and backs out of the parking stall with a start that makes Alfred yipe. "S-sorry. She moves so quickly."

"Just be careful, man."

They are on the main road, and Alfred bobs to himself, sipping on his coffee until he gets bored of the quiet and reaches for the radio. A strong hand grabs his and gently squeezes him away. Alfred puts his cup down and folds his arms, making sure to pout loudly enough. The world outside is gray and boring, so he peeks at Ivan instead. He grips the steering wheel with both hands, eyes forward without a blink. His face seems pale and cold. Alfred gets the urge to grab his cheeks, warm them up, but chews on his lower lip instead. The car slows considerably as rain dollops the windshield.

Ivan switches lanes, closer to the median, and takes the corner slowly. Someone honks and whips their car around theirs. Alfred catches a middle finger sticking out of the driver's window and unleashes an antagonizing cackle. "I bet this isn't how they drive in Russia."

A short hum, warming, "No. You would be very scared."

"No, I wouldn't!"

The engine lightly purrs as the speedometer recovers from the bend, and Alfred pipes down in case Ivan takes the straight stretch ahead of them as a challenge. There are too many cars on the road, and this isn't even his own ride. Another glimpse over. Alfred flicks on the radio and snatches his hand away. Ivan doesn't do anything. The radio plays some old rock song. Al starts to look for something else. Commercial. Church gospel. The weather. _Partly cloudy skies with a small chance of rain later in the evening-_

Rain lightly drums against the glass. Alfred changes the station. Static. Flick. _Used cars for sale, from now to_ —more static. He finally finds a station that plays music rather than a commercial, until the song ends and commercials start. Which devolves to more static. Ivan says, "That is creepy."

"Shitty reception. Must be all the trees."

One last turn on the dial before Ivan is most likely ready to slap his hand away, _"...non-stop music. Up next, we have Kirkland's new single,_ Give It Back- _"_

Alfred promptly turns the radio off, and settles against his seat. They drive in silence against the building weather, and he laments, "Oh, come on. This ain't no small chance of rain!"

Ivan doesn't reply, still staring the road down like it did him wrong. Alfred sighs. No music. A car races by them. He wants to hold Ivan's hand, but it tightly clutches the steering wheel. He squirms against his seat belt. Tries to stretch his legs. His sneakers momentarily drum to the floor. Ivan grunts, and he stops. Alfred squishes his face to Ivan's arm, blinking up at the side of his face, the way his pale hair comes down long to sweep the back of his neck, and closes his eyes to the warmth radiating from his track jacket. It gets uncomfortable leaning over like that, so he straightens, wriggling to crack his back. Rain runs down the world around them. He slides a fingertip along the strip between the passenger door and the window, then back again. Pick. Pick, picking. His hands fall back into his lap. He sighs again, and looks over again.

"I'm bored."

Another grunt.

Alfred glances his boyfriend down before smiling. He places an innocent hand on top of his thigh. Warm.

" _No._ I am driving."

"I'm not even doing anything!"

Ivan's mouth twitches up, which makes it all worth it. "I know your games before they start, you little devil."

Alfred 'grumpily' shoves his face back against his arm, whining again, "I'm _booooored."_

"Look at the rain."

"I already looked at the rain."

"Look at it again."

Alfred gives a squeeze, "Our outing is getting ruined!"

"Ah. Maybe it will let up."

_"Baby..."_

"No," Ivan repeats, this time maneuvering an elbow Alfred's way without taking his hands off the steering wheel. "I am trying to drive right now. Behave yourself."

"Don't wanna."

No response. Alfred pulls into his own seat again with the biggest sigh of them all. He already misses the warmth against his cheek. He races a fingertip against a rain droplet, but it makes a sudden detour, falsely claiming victory. He jerks back when the rain seethes, rapping the window with enough intensity that there was no chance at winning against it. He puts his hands in his lap, pulling faces at the shell of water wrapping around the car. The windshield wipers madly dance back and forth, but it didn't seem to do much. The rain is a distant drum against the road. Breathing is loud.

Alfred clears his throat, and a smile flutters to his face, "I knew I should've been the one driving. We'd be there already."

Ivan stares forward.

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Yes. You are the blinder one out of both of us."

"Hey!" Alfred pretends to be angry, without getting any attention. The rain worries him, too, but he couldn't do anything while strapped to the passenger's side. Why did he let Ivan drive? For some convenience store coffee? Better him behind the wheel than his boyfriend stiff-

"Shit," Ivan hisses, "I think I just blew through a red li-"

Alfred jumps as a deep bellow blares through the intersection before the grill of a tractor trailer pushes into the side of the car.

~.~

_"COMING UP NEXT-"_

Alfred trashes, almost smacking his glasses clean from his face. Ivan lets out the best of giggles before turning down the radio. "You looked too cute and I had to wake you up. It was distracting me."

"No, no. Don't be distracted." Alfred quickly says. Ivan hums and keeps driving. Rain patters generously against the windows.

_"...hits of the year, starting now."_ Alfred scrunches his eyebrows as the radio crumbles into static before coming back, _"Give it. Give it back. GIve it BaCk. GIVE IT BACK-"_

"Man, I'm turning that shit off! Annoying!"

A car rushes in the rain as Ivan slows to take the corner. Alfred tosses his head back, making funky face after funky face. "We passed that tree like, five times now."

"Lay off the coffee," Ivan teases. "It gives you bad dreams."

Water pours. Drips. Runs. Relentless.

"Am I really dreaming though?"

The radio snaps. They catch eyes. Something hits them. No, they run into something. Neither saw what it was this time. Another car? There was no crunch of pained metal. An animal? No, too light. A tree? Where are the shadows and leaves drooping to mourn against the rain?

"Alfred," Ivan calls, quiet. He blinks against the steering wheel, arms dangling uselessly at his sides. Blood drips to the floor.

"Why is there a tree in the middle of the road?" 

"Alfred," again. "There's not..."

"I'm not dreaming this?" Alfred whispers, as if that would disturb the swell of bruises and broken bone sprawled over the dashboard. "I have to be, sweetheart. _I have to be._ "

"No, it's mine. I would never let you get hurt."

Tears well in Alfred's eyes. He can't see Ivan's face anymore. It's unrecognizable and full of glass. "We're going to keep dying, aren't we?"

A snap of light, and thunder cracks, filling the cab with its inescapable boom.

Alfred jumps. He stands outside. Rain pours puddles in the grass around him. The tree above his head shields some of the rain. Some drops hit his skin. They're cold.

Ivan shouts above their sound, above the car, "What are you doing, just standing there?!"

"What _am_ I doing?" Alfred shouts back.

"I...I don't know."

Alfred marches around the car to nudge his boyfriend from standing in front of the driver's side. "I want to go home. I don't want to do this anymore!"

A hand reaches out and stops him from opening the door. Ivan is confused and worried and panic makes his voice tight, "Not us, right?"

"No, baby, _this._ Where are we going in the first place?"

Neither of them know. Neither of them have to say it. "Do you think we should turn back?"

The rain pours now. They stand in the middle of it. Alfred shivers and nods pitifully. _"Please."_

They are soaked, and press their wet foreheads together for a moment. Right beside the road. Neither cares. They're still there. Are they? Ivan's face is streaked with water but there is no blood, no glass. Thunder rolls across the furious skies, and they hastily break apart to flee inside the vehicle.

When they slip back inside, they're damp, but not soaked. Alfred yanks the stick-shift back and pushes up the hill. Ivan grunts, "Seatbelt."

Alfred lets out a feisty huff of air and snaps the buckle in place. In the same moment, he lurches across the road. Furious honks follow, but they make it to the other side of the median. He presses hard on the gas, and the car purrs at attention. Rain streams across the windows, but it's quiet. It makes him worry on his lip. He relents, and the radio is as clear as the blue that edges the sky, _"...afternoon from the greatest rock hits. For the weather forecast, it's beautiful sunny day with the smallest chance of showers late into the evening, so that'll give you plenty of time for your fun weekend plans-"_

Ivan turns off the radio and slumps against his headrest. Alfred doesn't say anything, doesn't protest the silence. By the time he pulls off the main road, the wet streaks along the windows are non-existent. It's a beautiful early-fall day, and there is a figure waiting outside Alfred's home, arms and ankles crossed as he delicately poses between the open bays. Ready to strike.

"It's your step-dad," Ivan says.

"He's not my step-dad. They're not married." Alfred pulls in and tosses over a sad look when he cuts the engine. "Did you just want to go home? I don't know if you really want to hear this-"

Ivan leans over and gives him the softest of kisses right on the corner of his mouth. "I'm here."

It was just a daydream. Right? Ivan is still smiling, and so does Alfred. Until there's a rap on the glass. Alfred twists with a glare. Arthur (the stupid washed out singer that somehow swooned his dang dad), makes a crook with a finger, urging them to vacate. _Come along now, little kiddies!_ All he needed is a cauldron to dump them in with a wicked laugh, and the bastard would be set.

They manage on their own, and Ivan awkwardly shuffles around to stand next to Alfred.

"Have fun, boys?" Arthur is mocking them. Alfred is sure of it. He clenches his fists inside his jacket pockets and can't help but think somehow, someway, he's responsible for something. Alfred doesn't know what. The gray he saw creep along the sky is his mind instead, but anything to be pissed off at Eyebrows is good enough. He stands in the middle of the garage like he presides over a court, and raises one of those horrid things on his forehead when neither respond.

"Just went for a ride."

"I can see that." The _What do you have to say for yourself?_ is silent.

Alfred shrugs. "Okay then."

"Okay?"

"Yeah. Okay."

" _Hmph._ Get out of my sight and don't put your filthy paws on anything of mine ever again."

"Gladly."

"And make sure you get your litter out of her before you go."

Alfred rolls his eyes and turns around to throw open the car door. Ivan stands aside and presses his fingers together. In the central cupholders, there's nothing. In the doors. Under the seats. Behind the seats. The taste of cocoa and coffee and blood mingle on his lips. 

"...take her for a joy ride, only to be washed out. Imagine that."

Alfred glances behind himself. Arthur isn't there anymore. He pulls out of the car and slams the door shut, backing away as his eyes jump around the paint. Eyes glint just as green as his steed. The car was completely dry.

"Alfred?" Ivan quietly asks.

A breeze rolls into the garage. It's a fine autumn day. There's not a cloud in sight.

"Let's just get inside, babe."

It seems like a good decision in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> The song Alfred sung at the beginning of the fic is 'Bad Decisions' by The Strokes.


End file.
